


Here

by vansandburberry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Harry, BoyxBoy, Gay, Hair Dye, M/M, Relationsip, Top Louis, burgundy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:19:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6529066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vansandburberry/pseuds/vansandburberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When pessimistic Louis Tomlinson  runs into  burgundy-haired Harry Styles their lives are changed forever, or maybe not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

Harry’s Point of View:

Get in, get out. 

That’s the plan. 

I repeat that to myself multiple times as I tug insecurely at the sleeves on my sweater. 

That was always my solution when I gain anxiety. Pulling at my sleeves or biting my nails. 

“It’ll be quick.” I promise myself under my breath, staring at my worn-out sneaker so I wouldn’t have to talk to anybody. 

In all twenty-one years of me being alive and being on this earth, I’ve come across a single fact. 

People suck. 

Dick.

And so me staying away from them at all costs will always be my problem solver for absolutely everything. 

I run a hand through my hair -- I need a haircut, badly -- and scan my eyes over the familiar aisle, before picking up a bottle of pills. 

A few feet away from me stands a boy in an ugly black and white varsity jacket and blue eyes… 

... with a backwards Snapback covering his red hair. 

Nice. You don’t see that everyday. 

“Hello there,” He breathers out, noticing me staring at him. 

“Hi.” I murmur, taking in his British accent. 

I haven’t met many British people. 

I turn around, ready to leave him, when I hear him groan out in frustration. 

Do I ask him about his hair? Am I even allowed to? 

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice quieter than intended. 

For a moment i think he doesn’t hear me and I almost open my mouth to ask again, but then he says, “My punk-ass friends.” 

“What’s wrong with your friends?”

I had gotten rid of almost all of my friends, but from what I remember, they weren’t punk- asses. 

“They’re dumb. Damaged my fucking hair.” 

“Why is your hair red?” I tilt my head. 

“It’s actually fucking burgundy.” He snaps. 

I’ve never seen somebody get so worked up over the color of their hair. 

I start to regret asking the question. 

“Then, um, why is your hair burgundy?”

It was an accident.” His voice is softer. 

“What?” 

“They told me they would help me bleach my hair, and they picked up the wrong dye.” He mutters, grabbing a container.“A pile of fuckers, that’s what they are.” 

I let out a small laugh, which I don’t do a lot and start to walk away. 

“Oh, by the way,” The Irish, burgundy-haired man says, “My name is Louis.”

Louis. I liked that. 

“My name is Harry.”

He gives me a small smile and I can feel my cheeks turn red, so I quickly turn around to leave, before I end up making Louis hate me somehow. 

“Hey,” He calls after me, “What are your pills for?”

“Antidepressants.” I reply nonchalantly, figuring I’d never see the boy anywhere ever again anyways. 

“You’re… Depressed?”

“Clinically, yes.”

“And I made you laugh?” Louis finally catches up to me and my eyes catch sight of the bottle in his hands. 

Hair bleach. 

I nod as I walk towards the cashier pays for me and then him, but as I walk out, he follows. 

“How was your day, Harry?” 

I stop walking instantly. ‘Excuse me?”

“I said, how was your day?” 

“Honestly?” 

“Honestly.” 

“Crappy and shitty.” I answer, before tilting his head at the boy in front of him. “What about you?” 

“Great, considering I met a wonderful new person today.” 

“I don’t know if that’s supposed to make me happy or aroused.”

He just laughs. 

He had a really nice laugh. 

I give him a barely visible smile and I turn around to walk away again. 

‘So, how’s life?” Louis Calls after me. 

“Why do you care?” I ask, sharper than intended. 

I always ended up doing that; sounding like a bitch when I really didn't mean to. 

“My big brother Cam, committed suicide because he was depressed.” Louis murmurs. “And his goodbye letter he said that if somebody had asked him how his day was, then he probably wouldn't have done it.” 

I open my mouth wide, but no sounds come out. 

“I’m sorry.” I say finally. 

“It’s okay.” Louis murmurs. ‘Can you come here?”

I hesitantly walk towards Louis, unsure of what I was even supposed to feel towards him. 

He was the first person that had actually tried to talk to me in months. 

As I stand in front of him he grabs my wrist and pulls my sleeve up, inspection my arms. 

“I don’t do that anymore.” I breath out, looking away. 

“Anymore?” 

“I realized that is wasn’t helping me in anyway, so I stopped.” 

“Where did you do it?” Louis whispers. 

“My left arm.” 

He lets go of my right arm and pulls the sleeve up, and sure enough, my arm is covered in old scars. 

“Oh, dammit Harry…” Louis murmurs. 

“Please don’t get emotional.” I mumble, not meeting eyes with the stranger.” I get really awkward when people start crying and I met you a minute ago.” 

“Just, don’t do it alright?” Louis asks, looking up at me with such an intense stare I’m almost scared. “I don’t like to see people sad.” 

“Alright,” I reply, overwhelmed by the fact that somebody even cared about me. 

“Bye Harry.” Louis murmurs, dropping my arm. 

“Bye… Louis.” I whisper and he turns around before walking away. 

I stand there, overwhelmed for a few seconds, just reevaluating exactly what happened. 

That doesn't happen everyday.


	2. Locked In

A week later I meet him again. 

I’m standing alone in the dairy aisle a little too late at night, minding my own buisness, and I hear the familiar: “Hey”

I slowly look up, expecting somebody else- Possibly the store clerk asking me if I’m homeless, but it’s just him. Louis. 

Burgundy-haired and starry-eyed Louis. 

“Hello,” I turn back towards the milk carton I was buying. “Louis, right?” 

“You remembered.” He smiles. 

“I couldn’t forget.” I reply.

“You’re more talkative.” He states, tilting his head, causing a strand of burgundy hair to fall across his forehead, even though his head was covered with a snapback. 

“I took my pills.” That’s a lie. 

I never took them; they made me feel like a different personality was being shoved down my throat. 

“I like it when you’re talkative.” Louis hums. “You have a soothing kind of voice.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “You met me a week ago?”

“Or maybe I’m just insane,” He grins at me, flashing his straight teeth. 

“Your hair is still red I see.” I turn around and start to walk away, this time expecting him to follow me into the next aisle. 

“Burgundy.” He corrects, trailing me. “And yeah, I couldn’t just dye it back to brown right away. I care about my hair.” 

I give him a small smile and pick up some water bottles. 

‘Why are you here?” He asks me, noticing I wasn’t going to continue our conversation.

“I’m hungry and my cat is parched.” I reply, “Why are you here?”

“I came looking for you.” 

I gave him a weird look. “You are something else, Louis.” 

“That sentence would sound better if you knew my last name.” Louis smirks. ‘And it’s Tomlinson.” 

“Styles.” I look over my shoulder at him briefly, to see him smiling to himself. 

“That’s a nice last name.” Louis’ gaze flickers back up to me, before scouting out a couple of Arizona drinks on the shelf.”It sounds like a fancy French hairdressers last name.” 

‘Well, I’m going to pay for this now, Louis.”

“You do that, Harry.” He pulls himself out of his daze, his blue eyes landing back on me. 

I nod and skim past him, going towards the cashier and paying for my snacks. 

I look back at the aisles though, and Louis isn’t there.

I frown, “Could you wait a second please?” 

“The store closes in three minutes the cashier replies in a monotoned voice as she chews bubblegum. 

“I’ll be fast.” I nod, running a hand through my hair, jogging to find Louis. 

I call his name a few times and receive nothing, until I hear muffled groaning from the bathroom.

Oh God. 

Is somebody having sex?

I cover my eyes and push open the door to the bathroom.

Please not be what I think it is, please not be what I think it is- 

“Fuck.” 

I open my eyes to see Louis groaning and writhing on the floor of the bathroom, clutching to his stomach. 

“Louis?” I ask softly as I inch closer, “Are you okay?” 

“Do I look okay?

I liked how even though he looked like he was about to throw up all over everything, he could still be sarcastic and witty. 

That was a nice trait. 

“No”

“I think I ate really bad food?” 

“Why would you eat bad food?” 

“I stole it.” Louis groans, banging his head on the floor. 

“You stole it?”

“I mean I was in the back of this store and I saw this huge box just overloaded with Arizona's and I couldn’t just leave them…” Louis starts. “So I drank a fruit punch.”

“Fruit punch isn’t even that good!” I throw my hands up in the air. 

“I know!” Louis exclaims. ‘I should’ve taken the damn iced tea.” 

“How did you get on the floor though?”

“I don’t know!” Louis exclaims, before everything goes black.

“Fuck this,” Louis whispers, grabbing my wrist and yanking me into his body, as if I would provide some sort of protection in the void of darkness.

“He told me I had three minutes.” I whisper a I hear the loud sound of a door locking. 

“Are we locked in?”

“Yeah,” I murmur. ‘We’re locked in.”

“Do you know what that means?” 

Even though I can’t see Louis, I can hear the grin in his voice. 

‘What?” 

“Free stuff.” 

“Oh my God,” i whisper, pushing him away from me. “One minute in and I’m already done with you Louis.”

“Oh, shut up.” Louis sits up like it’s not an issue, but I hear him hiss in pain.

“Where is your phone?” I whisper. “We could call somebody.”

“I broke it.” Louis murmurs sheepishly. “I forgot it was in my back pocket and it fell into the toilet.” 

“We’re going to die.” 

“Don’t you have a phone?” Louis asks, standing up. 

“I hate talking to people in real life.” I look at Louis. “Does having a cellphone make it any better?” 

“Yes?” Louis replies, pulling me up with a shaky hand, proving how secretly unstable he was. 

“No, Louis. It doesn’t.”

“Follow me,” Louis ignores my response as he pulls us through the door. “Your lucky I can see well in the dark.”

“Don’t be cocky.” I whisper back, following the burgundy-haired man.

“Sit here.” He says, pulling out a dog cushion.

“What? You want me to sit in a dog bed?”

“Please?” He adds, sounding as if he was questioning why I wouldn’t want to sit on a bed designed for dogs.

“Hurry up with whatever you’re doing, or else I’ll be forced to find you.” I mutter

“It’s not that dark.” Louis murmurs. “I’m just going to look for a phone.”

I scoff but don’t say anything and let him walk away.

After two minutes of me counting the tiles on the floor, he appears again; with various bags of Doritos and Lays.

“This is illegal.” I whisper timidly as he sits beside me on the floor, handing me a bag.

“This, is survival.”


	3. Beauty Queen

“I think,” I bite my lip, “I think that if we’re lucky, then maybe, just maybe, my friend Niall might be sober. 

“Niall?” Louis scoffs. “That sounds like the name of a gay bartender.” 

“He dated a bartender and he’s bi.” 

“Lovely.”

“But if he’s sober he might call in that I’m missing.” 

“You can’t file a missing person report until they’ve been gone for 24 hours, so you’re stuck with me for god knows how long.” 

“12 hours.” I murmur. “Unless we get out, that is.” 

“Okay, what’s your favorite color?” 

“Well, I’m not sure. I kind of like royal--”

“No, we won’t do that, play 20 questions or whatever.” Louis interrupts me. “You aren’t even prepared.” 

“For what?” I furrow my eyebrows. 

“For questions!” 

I roll my eyes. “I’m going to go walk round.” Louis is insane. 

“Go ahead,” Louis sighs, giving up on talking to me. “Meet me in the toys aisle in a while.” 

“Okay.” I walk away from Louis and skim past the aisles, and I somehow find myself in the makeup section. 

I glance around, only recognizing L’oreal and Maybelline from various commercials of cake-faced girls. 

“Harry!” Louis shrieks from an aisle or three away. 

“Yeah?” My voice is echoed by the sound of a bike bell. 

“I am arriving on my manly stallion.” Louis says in a deep voice, before appearing from around the corner on a neon pink disney bike. 

“That’s actually the most depressing thing I’ve ever seen, ever.” I mumble as Louis struggles to ride towards me, his legs being too long for the bike. “And I’m depressed.” 

“Help!” Louis shouts in a high-pitched girly voice. “I can’t stop!” 

Louis then -- ever so gently-- rams the bike into my legs, and topples over off the bike , falling to the ground. 

“Ow.” Louis sits up.

“I’m the one that got hit with the bike.” 

“It wasn’t that hard.” Louis mutters as I grab a hand and pull him up to his feet. 

Louis glances around the section of the market briefly, before saying: “I have an idea.” 

“What’s your idea?” 

“I’ll give you a makeover.” Louis hums, grabbing purple eyeshadow. “Make you look pretty n’ stuff.” 

“No don’t do that-” 

“Shh.” Louis mumbles, pulling me to the ground. 

“Louis-” 

“Here.” Louis pulls a headband out of his pocket.

“Why do you have that?”

Louis furrows his eyebrows. “For a slingshot? Duh.”

“Why do you need a slingshot?”

“Personal reasons.” Louis pushes my head down and puts on the headband, pushing back all my hair. 

“I feel ugly.” I mumbled, fidgeting with my fingers as Louis looks down at me. 

I liked having my hair cover my forehead; like this I felt exposed. 

Louis’ eyes widen as he stare at me, as if I was one of the world’s greatest wonders. 

“Louis?” I whisper quietly. 

“Wow.” Louis murmurs, finally breaking his gaze from my face and looking at the makeup instead. 

I don’t even bother to ask, knowing I won’t like the answer.

“I’d put on some concealer, but your skin is flawless so,” Louis shrugs. 

“My skin is flawless?” 

“Flawless and I don’t know what concealer looks like.” Louis grabs mascara. 

“Shut your eyes.” 

I sigh and close my eyelids. Instantly I hear the sound of plastic ripping and containers breaking, and then I feel a brush on my eye.

“Eyeliner is going to be so hard,” Louis whispers, and I can feel his breath on my face. “It’s fucking liquid too, shit!” 

I don’t dare open my eyes.

“Please don’t stab me in the eye.” 

“I’ll try not to.” Louis whispers, “But remember, I’ve only watched the 30 second mascara commercials.” 

That’s reassuring.

I feel the marker on my eye and Louis’ consistent swearing before I feel his presence disappear.

“Done…” Louis says softly and I peak open an eye, “Really?” 

“I mean done with your eyes, dimwit.” 

He went from soft and quiet to sassy and stuck-up in seconds. 

I like that.

“Okay, ask me if you need help, I don’t need you messing up my face.”

Louis mutters something about not being able to mess up my face, even if he purposely tried before grabbing the blush. 

“Shouldn’t you have put on the mascara before the eyeliner?”

“Who’s the makeup artist here?”

I stay silent.

“Exactly.”

“I stayed silent because their isn’t a makeup artist here.”

“Talk shit and I’ll cut your hair.” Louis scoffs. “Can’t you see I’m trying to make you beautiful.” 

“I’m a man.” 

“You’re pretty feminine.” 

I sigh and let Louis continue to cake my face.

After two minutes of silence, I hear Louis laugh. 

“I’m done now.”

I open my eyes and frown. “I feel like there’s weight on my face.” 

“I really caked you up but…” Louis grabs the hand mirror and waves it in front of my face.

“Gross!” I gasp as I look at my face.

I had so much eyeliner it looked like a market, and he drew in heavy black to fill in my eyebrows; not to mention the blue above my eye.

And my cheeks had a large circle on each side, supposedly being the blush-- oh my god.

“I look hideous!” I exclaim. 

“You look lovely.” Louis grins back.

“This is so bad,” I continue.

“I think you could win America’s Next Top Model if you tried.” 

“I’m not even American.” I pout. 

Louis laughs.

“I’m going to kill you, Louis, oh my god.” I stand up. “But I need you to come with me.”

“Where?” Louis gets up too.

“To the bathroom? I’m not going in there alone.” 

Louis chuckles. “Baby.” 

“You pulled me into your chest when the lights turned out so I wouldn’t go around calling people baby if I were you.” 

“You’re still a baby, baby.”


End file.
